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  "I wanted to take him home," Ruth said in a forlorn voice. "But Doc said it would be better for him to sleep here tonight. And I just don't know how I'm going to handle everything. Our son Brad is still healing from that broken arm he got himself, but I guess I could ask him to come back and at least handle the light lifting."

  "I'll help, too, Ruth," Sunny said adamantly. "After all, with Fred getting hurt in our building, I feel responsible."

  "No, no," Ruth assured her. "This project is just as much mine as yours, Sunny. But I will accept a little help from you around the store if you have time. And Teddy can come with you. She's such a little joy to have around."

  "You can take Fred home in the morning," Doc told Ruth. "Right now, you need to go on home yourself and rest. You're gonna have your hands full nursing Fred and running the store."

  "I'll go with you and get you settled," Sunny said. "I'd stay with you, but Teddy might wake up during the night."

  "Yeah," Jake said. "And I wouldn't count on that aunt of yours taking care of Teddy if she does wake up. When we were leaving, she muttered something about not being a nursemaid."

  "I just don't understand Cassie any more," Ruth repeated, shaking her head. "I really expected her to offer a little comfort when I told her about Fred. But instead she just stiffened and said she hadn't known you weren't going to be at the Center all afternoon, Sunny. And she shut the door in my face!"

  "The witch," Sunny muttered. "And she told me a bald-faced lie when she said she didn't know why you were upset! I really better get back to Teddy, Ruth. But I'll see you home first."

  Wrapping an arm around Ruth's waist, she led her from the doctor's office. Jake followed them, and once on the walkway, he reached for Ruth.

  "I'll take her home," he told Sunny. "And I can watch you until you reach your own house, too. Go straight there."

  "Well, I'd planned to," Sunny said with a huff. "But I can do that just as well after I get Ruth settled."

  "Go home now, Sunny." Jake nodded his head down the street, where a drunken cowboy, who had just come out of Saul's Saloon, was singing an off-key tune and trying to climb on his horse. "This time of evening isn't a good hour for ladies to be wandering around on the streets alone. Like I said, I'll keep an eye on you until you get to your house."

  "I'll be fine with Jake, Sunny," Ruth confirmed. "He's right. You go on home and take care of Teddy if she wakes up. I remember you telling me she still has nightmares once in a while."

  "All right."

  Sunny hugged Ruth, then nodded a good night to Jake. Picking up her skirts, she hurried across the street ahead of them. At the end of the walkway on the opposite side of the street, where she had stood in the shadows with Jake, her steps faltered and she glanced back. Jake stood at the doorway to the general store, his large body throwing an elongated shadow into the street. He had a clear view of her, also, the rest of the way to the house, and her back tingled as she scurried across the distance from the walkway to the porch and climbed the steps.

  Hand on the doorknob, she looked back once again. In the light shining through the general store windows, she saw he'd kept his promise. Reaching up, he caught his hat brim between his fingers in a polite gesture before he entered the store. She stood there until the lights were extinguished in the lower part of the store, turning the doorknob only after she realized the drunken cowboy was riding his horse toward her end of the street.

  The doorknob refused to budge, and Sunny gripped it harder, wrenching and shaking. Surely her aunt hadn't locked the door. She'd never found it locked once since her arrival, and she hadn't thought to ask for a key. The darkness beneath the porch overhang deepened as a cloud scuttled over the moon, falling across her shoulder with nearly discernible pressure.

  The cowboy drew closer. Sunny fisted her hand and rapped on the door.

  "Aunt Cassie!" she called without much hope her aunt would hear since her bedroom was on the far end of the house. "Aunt Cassie! The door seems to be stuck!"

  "Can I help ya', l'il lady?"

  Sunny whirled. The cowboy sat on his horse, swaying back and forth in the saddle in extremely slow motion.

  "No!" Sunny cautiously lowered her voice. "Ah . . . I'll be fine. I think the door's just stuck."

  The cowboy ever-so-carefully dismounted, staggering a step and grabbing his saddlehorn for balance.

  "Whoops," he said with a laugh. "Hol' still there, horse."

  After a second he pushed away from the horse and started for Sunny. "Wouldn't be p'lite for me to leave you standin' there in the dark. Lemme see if I can help."

  Sunny held her hands out and backed away from the door, mentally measuring the distance around the side of the house to the back door. But what if it was locked, also?

  "Please. Don't bother," she said. "My aunt will come let me in."

  "Who? Ol' Cassie?" The cowboy climbed the steps. "Why, she'd prob'ly let you sleep on the porch and not miss a wink a' sleep herself."

  Rowdy rounded the side of the house, a low growl in his throat. Sunny breathed a sigh of relief, but the cowboy glanced at the dog and clicked his fingers.

  "Rowdy, boy," he drawled. "Ain't seen you 'round for a while."

  Rowdy's tail wagged, and he sat down with a whine, lifting a paw. The cowboy chuckled and knelt, wobbling on his knee and catching himself with one hand. Still slightly unsteady, he scratched Rowdy behind one ear, muttering some slurred words about him being a good dog.

  Sunny glanced to the side of the porch. She surreptitiously picked up her skirts, but before she could take a step the cowboy lurched to his feet. Staggering awkwardly, he reached for the closest support. His hands landed on Sunny's shoulders, and his alcohol-laden breath hit her full in the face. Instinctively she reacted, curling her fingers into claws.

  ***

  Chapter 11

  "Whoops!" the cowboy repeated, regaining his balance and staggering back. "Sorry, Miss Fannin. Man, I gotta start rememberin' what my limit is. I show up with a hangover tomorrow morning, Mary's gonna crack me up 'long side the head with a skillet. Got to talkin' to Saul, catchin' up on things, and guess I lost count of the drinks I had. Sure do apologize, Miss Fannin."

  "You're one of Mary Lassiter's men?" Sunny asked, keeping her fingers arched but hiding them inside her skirt folds.

  "Name's Chuck," the cowboy said. "Mary's foreman. I came back to the ranch while y'all were eatin' supper, so I didn't get to meet you. Heard what had happened from Theresa when I stopped by the ranch house, and came on into town to make sure Miller wasn't hangin' 'round, but guess I should've known he wouldn't mess with Jake. Sure was glad you had Cameron with you when you came out there. I been tellin' Mary we need to send Miller packin', but she was waitin' 'til after the spring calves were took care of."

  "It's all right," Sunny assured him, relaxing her hands a little. "Please give Mary my regards, but hadn't you better be on your way?"

  "Should be," Chuck agreed. "But lemme see 'bout that door first."

  Somewhat steadier, he walked to the door. Grabbing the knob, he twisted. It opened easily, and Sunny's mouth dropped in surprise.

  "There you go," Chuck said, sweeping out a hand. "You must've been turnin' it the wrong way."

  "I wasn't," Sunny said with a frown. "Or at least, I don't think so."

  "Easy to get confused in the dark. Say, both Mary and Saul told me you'd taken in little Teddy. Want to say I think that's real nice of you, Miss Fannin. I used to stop by that shack once in a while to check on her — and that Rowdy dog after he took up with Teddy."

  Hearing his name Rowdy whined once more, his tail thumping the porch, and Chuck reached down to pat him. "Mary sent some things in now and then for me to leave with Tompkins for both of them. But I started takin' the stuff directly to Teddy when Saul said he'd heard John Dougherty say Tompkins throwed the dress Suzie outgrew in the trash, instead of givin' it to Teddy."

  "Mr. Cravens appears to know a lot about what happens in town," Sunny mused.
>
  "Yeah, most of it gets talked about in his saloon at one time or another. Saul knows 'bout everyone around, since he's been runnin' his saloon for long as I can remember. And I grew up here myself."

  "He doesn't look that old."

  Chuck threw back his head and laughed, then seemed to remember what time of night it was. Leaning forward, he placed a finger near his lips, his breath causing Sunny's stomach to lurch as he whispered, "It's that black stuff he uses on his hair, and even on his mustache when he takes it in mind to grow one." He gave Sunny a conspiratorial wink. "But don't never mention it to him. He don't think none of us know 'bout it."

  He straightened a second before Sunny felt she was going to have to embarrass him by clamping a hand over her nose, and tipped his hat to her.

  "Best say good night and get on my way, Miss Fannin. You ever need anything, like another door unstuck or whatever, you just holler. And me and the boys are sure lookin' forward to gettin' some shows to go to in town. You can bet we'll be there with our spurs a'jinglin' when you get that theater open."

  "It's not a theater . . ." Sunny began, but Chuck was already wobbling down the steps to his horse. The animal snorted and sashayed away when he staggered against the saddle, and Sunny giggled as Chuck stuck his hands on his hips and glared at the horse.

  "Now listen, horse," he said.

  She hurried down the steps and took the horse's bridle. "I'll hold him for you," she said with another smothered laugh. "But I'm afraid you'll have to get into the saddle yourself."

  "Thank you," Chuck said in an all-serious voice. His first attempt at the stirrup missed, but he managed to stick his boot toe in the loop on the second try. Grabbing the saddlehorn, he reeled into the saddle, falling across the horse's neck. The animal blew through its nose, and Sunny could have almost sworn the sound was exasperation at its rider's antics.

  Chuck pushed himself upright, and Sunny handed him the reins. He nodded in drunken elegance, gathered the reins and turned the horse. Before he'd ridden more than a few yards, he broke out into a ditty about some gal named Sal, and Sunny had to muffle her laughter again as she headed into the house.

  She broke off her laughter at the door, studying the lock and feeling it with her hands in the darkness. She only found an empty keyhole, which took a skeleton key. There was no sliding lock to be set in place from inside the house. Shrugging, she decided Chuck must have been right. She'd just been turning the doorknob the wrong way.

  As she made her way through the house to check on Teddy before retiring herself, she recalled Chuck's words about the cowboys looking forward to the shows at the Cultural Center.

  "Oh, lord," she murmured. "I wonder if we should set up a place for the cowboys to hang their spurs in our hat check room." Spurs a'jinglin' cowboys weren't exactly what she'd had in mind for patrons of the Center, but she guessed their money would be as good as anyone else's.

  Jake didn't wear spurs. He handled his powerful dun stallion with perfect expertise without them. He probably handled his women in the same way — with a masterful confidence, to which the women were completely willing to submit. She most certainly hadn't resisted him, but she darned sure would from now on.

  She entered Teddy's room and pulled the sheet up to cover the tiny figure on the bed. With a smile she also tucked the sheet around the doll on the pillow. Yawning with tiredness, she left the room.

  She was beginning to enjoy portions of her life in Liberty Flats and appreciate the friendships she was forming, she mused as she undressed in her own room. But the strained atmosphere here at the house hadn't changed. Each day she realized more and more that she should have stayed in St. Louis, leaving Cassie to her own brooding style of living. Of course then she wouldn't have Teddy, but Teddy might be better off back east herself if her missing, neglectful mother would happen to show up.

  And tonight she had found another avenue she could pursue to try to find the answer to the one other question which had brought her to Liberty Flats initially. According to Chuck, Saul Cravens knew everything there was to know about the town.

  ~~

  Jake scratched a match on his denim-clad thigh and lit the lantern he'd brought with him from the jailhouse. The sounds from Ginny's saloon next door were a lot more muted than the noises he could hear even all the way over here from Saul's place across the street. Rather than risking a fire if it landed in the sawdust-scattered floor, he slid the dead match into his back pocket after he blew it out. Lifting the lantern, he looked around for the ladder from which Fred had fallen.

  He saw it immediately, still lying on the floor amid the splintered chair pieces. Going closer he set the lantern on a nearby table and righted the ladder, also noticing the blood spattered on the floor beside it and staining a piece of the chair.

  He'd seen Fred carry that ladder down the street just a few days ago. Unless it had been improperly constructed, it should have held up for years. And his suspicions panned out. A barely discernable cut approximately an inch long had been made across the board on the broken step partway up the ladder. A person not looking for it might have missed the evidence of the ladder being tampered with.

  A slight noise alerted Jake, and he whirled in one smooth movement, his gun appearing in his hand as though it had been there all along. His motion left him beyond the lantern light, and he squinted at the doorway.

  "Don't take another step," he ordered.

  "Whoa! Hey, it's me, Jake." The shadow in the doorway held his hands out to the side, clearly showing Jake that he held no weapon. Recognizing Saul Cravens' voice, Jake slowly thumbed the hammer on his pistol back into place.

  "What the hell are you doing over here in the dark, Cravens?" he snarled.

  "Saw the light and was just doing my civic duty," Cravens replied. "Thought somebody might be prowling around in here, and after what happened today figured I'd better check it out. Just in case you were playing cards at Ginny's or something and didn't know what was going on."

  "Well, you can see I'm not playing cards. So you can go on about your own business now."

  "Some sort of problem about the accident today?" Cravens asked. "It was an accident, wasn't it?"

  "Why do you ask?"

  "Just wondering." Jake couldn't see Saul's face, but he moved closer as Saul continued, "Guess finding you here looking things over this time of night makes me think there might be something fishy going on. You find anything suspicious?"

  "What could be suspicious about a fellow being clumsy and falling off a ladder?"

  "You're good, Cameron," Saul said with a chuckle. "You haven't answered one thing I've asked. Instead you come back with another question each time."

  "My investigations aren't open for discussion with private citizens. If there's ever anything people need to know, I'll be the one to decide what and when to tell them."

  "Hope you remember to do that." Saul turned away. "After all, we wouldn't want the citizens of this town to think you weren't doing your job, now would we?"

  Jake didn't bother to respond. Sliding his pistol into his holster, he listened for Saul's footsteps to recede. Instead the saloon owner returned to the doorway.

  "You know, Cameron, you really shouldn't let the ladies in town depend on a cowboy who's just left my place after one too many drinks to see them inside their homes, either."

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I saw the Lassiter spread's foreman over at the Foster house a few minutes ago. From what I could make out, Sunny seemed to be having some problems getting in her door. But don't worry. I watched until I saw Chuck leave and Sunny go inside. Didn't seem to be any trouble between them. Fact is, he and Sunny looked like they were having a high old time laughing about something. Might have been the difficulty Chuck was having trying to get back in the saddle again. I swear, that was a sight. I thought poor Sunny was gonna have to push on Chuck's ass to help him mount back up."

  "Get outta here, Saul." Jake kept his voice flat, a definite contradiction to h
is smoldering thoughts.

  Saul shrugged and left again. Jake moved on over to the doorway, assuring himself that Saul crossed the street this time. Before he pushed through the batwing doors, however, Saul turned and lifted one finger to his hat brim in a salute to Jake. Then he threw back his head, laughing and ducked into the saloon.

  Jake's lips curled in derision, and he stomped back over to the ladder, booting aside one of the chair pieces with a kick that bounced it against the far wall. Trying to focus once again on the cut in the ladder step, he fingered it. Instead of reasoning out the cause of the vandalism, his mind formed a picture of Sunny Fannin's smooth hands. Less than an hour ago, they had been buried in his hair, but now he visualized them reaching toward Chuck's ass to help him on his horse. Hell, he might think Saul was just trying to get a rise out of him if he hadn't seen Chuck riding out of town half drunk. With a muffled curse he flung the ladder aside and strode next door to Ginny's.

  "Whiskey," he ordered from Perry, propping his elbows on the bar.

  "Huh?" Perry responded.

  When Jake gave him his best murderous glare, Perry hastily grabbed a bottle from the shelf behind him and a shot glass from the clean ones lining the sink. He set them both in front of Jake and started to pour the shot glass full.

  Jake grabbed the bottle away from him. "Just leave it," he growled.

  "Sure, sure, Jake," Perry soothed. "You just surprised me, was all. You usually pretty much stick to beer."

  "Tonight I'm drinking whiskey."

  "What bug bit you?" Perry made the mistake of asking.

  "Go to hell!"

  He poured the shot glass full, slammed the bottle onto the bar and threw the whiskey down his throat. Picking up the bottle, he jerked around and scanned the room. The only empty table was back in one corner, and it suited him just fine. Scowling at anyone who made the blunder of greeting him, he weaved his way to the table and sat down. Only Ginny had the guts to approach him, and she swept across the room with her full blue-silk skirts rustling and a warning gleam in her green eyes.